There was time to play in the garden after the Fourth of July brunch had been consumed. Mabel Watson Payne made a couple of attempts to eat the flowers but she no longer makes any serious effort to eat the grass.
Back inside, she really hardly had time to investigate the entire house, but tried to cover as much territory as possible. Once she understood how the piano worked, she felt impelled to move on, and used the pointing technique to let her father know where she wanted to go next.
There were a a few small presents to unwrap also, including an intriguing wooden whistle.
But even new toys could not for long obstruct the duty to check out every corner of every room. In most ways Mabel Watson Payne reminds me forcefully of my daughter at the same age, but I do not remember anything quite like this avid curiosity.
